


Prompt fills

by izazov



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Canon, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of thorki prompt fills from tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: How about Thor and Loki in a fight, but being so well matched it just keeps going on and on without anyone winning so the fight just disintegrates into talking or even sex or something nice with a more or less happy ending, please?

It does not happen often, but every once and again, Thor engages a foe who proves to be a truly worthy opponent. When every one of Thor’s blows is either blocked or dodged, and he has to give all he has to break through his opponent’s defenses.

Thor relishes those fights; when his blood thrums with excitement and the nearness of his own possible doom, when every cell inside him sings with bloodlust and fierce determination to prevail or meet his demise, and do it with a smile and bathed in blood of his enemies while thunder roars and lightning crashes. All of which have, once upon a time, made him a god in the eyes of mortal men of Midgard.

It does not happen often, there are not many who can stand against him, but when it does happen, Thor welcomes the challenge. Welcomes the challenge each and every one of those opponents signify.

All but one. One will never signify anything but loss and regret. And deep, deep down inside Thor’s foolish heart – stubborn and persistent – hope.

Thor sees a flash of steel – too close, almost too late – and snaps his head to the side. A dagger flies by his face, its blade grazing his cheek. Thor grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, wiping the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.

“Already growing tired, Thor?” The amused chuckle draws Thor’s eyes toward the tall figure facing him from the other side of the wide clearing, twirling another dagger between slim fingers. “Midgard has made so soft. Such a pity. Makes it easier for me, though.”

Thor’s eyes narrow further, Mjölnir flying from his hand almost without Thor’s conscious though, but before it reaches the leather clad figure, the figure shimmers and disappears, materializing a few feet away, awarding Thor with a low chuckle.

Thor grimaces, Mjölnir dutifully flying back to his outstretched hand.

Yes, a worthy opponent indeed, but Thor would have preferred if Loki retained another role in his life.

That of a brother.

***

Thor cannot tell how long they have been fighting, nor does he remember who issued the challenge this time – was it Loki once again, or did Thor manage to convince himself he is ready to put an end to their longstanding game – but his muscles are starting to ache from exertion, his body is adorned with a number of shallow cuts, and his gravest wound – a puncture wound in his side – is turning from minor nuisance into a real discomfort. 

Thor stops abruptly, his breath leaving his lungs in one long exhale. His hand, the one holding Mjölnir, falls by his side, his gaze travelling slowly over the devastation they have created – cracked and burnt ground, fallen trees and wilted plants – until it reaches Loki and there it stops.

“Dramatic pauses are a thing of plays, Thor, not battles.” Loki drawls, looking at Thor with caution and calculation. He looks wary and bedraggled, Thor notes, there is a large bruise adorning the left side of his face and no matter how subtly he does it, it does not escape Thor’s notice that Loki seems to be cradling his left hand.

A bitter chuckle wells inside Thor’s throat, but Thor presses his lips tightly, keeping it from leaving his mouth. They are both fools, playing a game which leads them nowhere, leaving them with new scars and even more bitterness and resentment. It matters little by whose rules this game is being played – his, Loki’s or deities far too cruel and bored to bother with mercy – they are the ones caught in this vicious circle, and Thor has no patience for it anymore.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Loki’s face as he slowly uncurls his fingers from around Mjölnir’s handle, letting it fall down on the ground.

Loki’s eyes widen slightly, startled, but the expression in them quickly turns to that of amusement and disdain. He cocks his head to the side, lips curved into a derisive smirk. But, Thor cannot help but notice, he still has to move in for an attack. Thor’s heart picks up speed, minutely, not out of fear, but something far more dangerous – hope.

“What makes you think your stupidity would stop me from claiming a victory over you?”

Thor’s lips twist into a self-derogatory smile, his shoulders relaxing, but his eyes do not move from Loki’s. “I don’t.”

A shadow of uncertainty flashes, then, almost as fast, recedes from Loki’s eyes. But he does not look as confident anymore, his mask faltering, annoyance and suspicion showing through the cracks.

“What is the purpose of this, then?” Loki asks, his voice coming out tense, thick with disdain. “Your idea of an elaborate suicide? I see your taste for melodrama has not changed.”

“You won’t kill me.” Thor states, his voice firm.

Loki blinks, then narrows his eyes, his smirk slipping from his face.

“Oh? And why is that?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Thor stays silent a moment, considering his response. Loki will react poorly to the truth, Thor knows this, but if he is to break the pattern of their encounters, lying will not be of much use.

“The same reason I would stay my hand. You don’t want me dead.”

Color drains from Loki’s face, making the bruise on his face stand out even more. He looks as if Thor slapped him in the face. It lasts barely longer than a few heartbeats, then the shock melts from his expression, leaving only fury.

“You insufferable bastard.” Loki hisses, his eyes narrowed into slits, glinting dangerously. “Not even commiserating with lesser species has made you any less arrogant.” 

“It is hardly arrogance if it is true.” Thor states, his lips curving into small smile.

Loki moves faster than Thor’s eyes can follow, slamming into Thor bodily. They end up on the ground, rolling and wrestling without finesse and grace; as if they are no more than two boys and not seasoned warriors with centuries of training and experience. They claw at each other, pushing and pulling, until they end up with Thor straddling Loki’s thighs, one of his hands pinning Loki’s wrist on the ground by his head, the other wrapped around the wrist of Loki’s other hand. The one holding a dagger against Thor’s throat.

Thor’s breath leaves his mouth in harsh pants, the press of cold metal against his exposed throat losing importance as the feel of Loki’s body beneath his own triggers a flood of memories. Of the time when they were young, taking their first steps as men, sharing everything. They trained together, Thor’s superior strength granting him an upper hand in their fights, which mostly ended with Loki sprawled on the ground under the solid weight of Thor’s greater bulk, breathing heavily and glaring at Thor’s smiling face. Thor always preferred sparring with Loki. Even before he finally understood and accepted the reason of it.

Thor does not realize he had said the words out loud until Loki’s lips twist bitterly and the press of dagger against Thor’s throat increases minutely, just shy of piercing the skin.

“Of course you preferred sparring with me. Proving how superior you are.” Loki sneers, his voice laced with venom. Thor takes a careful breath, his fingers twitching instinctively around Loki’s wrist, but Thor resist the urge to tighten his grip around Loki’s wrist. Most of the fury has drained from Loki’s eyes, replaced by the familiar mixture of resentment and contempt. “You always did enjoy reminding me where I belong. Below you.”

Thor’s lips twitch, a rueful expression flickering across his features. “Humiliating you was never the reason why I preferred sparring with you.” Thor says firmly. Then, following an impulse, he allows himself a boyish grin. “But yes, I did enjoy having you below myself.”

Loki lashes flutter, the look of wide-eyed surprise making him seem younger and infinitely softer, but it quickly turns into sardonic amusement. “My apologies, Thor.” Loki says, his voice dry. “Wanting to mount me while you believed me to be your younger brother was infinitely better than you simply being your arrogant self.”

“I desired you, I’m not about to deny it.” Thor says, earnestly. He leans down, just a bit, swallowing a triumphant smile when Loki allows it, the blade following Thor’s movement. Still a warning, turning every word, and every next move Thor chooses to make into a gamble. But Thor feels hope rising inside the hollow of his chest, somehow certain that their battle has morphed into something else. Something better. Loosening his grip, Thor’s thumb brushes gently against the pulse point on Loki’s wrist, a surge of fierce satisfaction flooding his chest at the sudden spike in Loki’s heart rate. “But I only ever wanted to love you. Don’t you remember?”

Loki snorts derisively, but it is a slight tremble of the fingers holding the dagger against his throat that Thor chooses to believe. It has taken Thor a long time, but he had learned that Loki’s body has always spoken truths Loki tried to conceal.

“Interested in how well you fare against all who came after you, Thor?” Loki arches an eyebrow, his voice low and mocking. “Ever the competitor.”

Thor does not mean to do so, he tries to stop himself, but to no avail. A low growl falls from his lips as his fingers clench around the bones of Loki’s wrists, heedless of the danger contained in the curved blade resting against his throat. But Loki merely rolls his eyes in exasperation.

“For someone who is supposed to be a shining beacon of valour and honour, you can be such a hypocrite, Thor.” Loki drawls. “I know your appetite in such matters, I hardly believe that woman has been the only one to warm your bed.” 

The muscle in Thor’s jaw twitches, his fingers reluctantly loosening their hold. Loki speaks truth – Jane was not the only one he has bedded after Loki. Nor is Loki mistaken about Tor appetites. He enjoys sex, he always had. But Loki is mistaken about one thing – Thor has never desired anyone with the same desperate, all-encompassing need as he had Loki. 

“You speak true.” Thor forces through gritted teeth, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. “I have no claim over you.”

_But how I wish I had._

The thought rises unbidden inside his mind, the truth of it – hidden and unwelcome as of late, buried under memories of past lies and betrayal – containing the greatest joy and the greatest sorrow of Thor’s life.

After Loki’s fall and all that has happened in New York, Thor has abandoned all thought of ever laying his hands on Loki as a lover. But now, with Loki lying underneath him, it is all he can think about. Not even with the threat of a blade so close to spilling his lifeblood. Loki is poison, a sickness of his heart and blood, and Thor is starting to realize he will never recover from it. He might yet die from it.

Engrossed in his thoughts Thor almost misses the subtle shift of Loki’s expression – his eyes flutter closed briefly as a soft sigh leaves his lips; an expression of defeat flickering across his face. The blade is now nothing more than a token threat – held in a loose grip, barely touching Thor’s neck. Thor could easily disarm Loki now, if he attempted to do so.

Thor does not, content to watch Loki’s face, waiting on Loki’s next words.

“I do remember.” Loki says, sounding weary; each word passing past his lips slowly, as if against Loki’s will. Then, with his head cocked to the side, his face, for once, void of mocking, resentment and rage, looking genuinely curious, Loki adds softly: “Do you?”

Thor almost laughs at that, but it would be a hollow, bitter laughter, so he does not. He remembers everything – every taste, every touch, every smell. From the first time, when they were barely more than boys, their hands clumsy in their urgency and inexperience; the soft gasp falling from Loki’s lips and the awed expression in his eyes as Thor took him for the first time. Then there is the last time, on the day of Thor’s failed coronation – hard and fast against a wall, with Loki’s nails leaving bloody streaks in the skin of Thor’s back; his eyes glinting with dark challenge.

“You know I do.” He says, voice firm, his eyes holding Loki’s steadily. Then, as if to emphasize the words, Thor rocks his hips slowly. He is already half-hard; a fact which leaves him unsurprised – having Loki sprawled out underneath him, with bloodlust still thrumming inside his veins, is not something to which Thor could ever stay unaffected. But what does come as a surprise is answering hardness.

Thor’s eyebrows shoot up, his eyes flickering toward Loki’s groin then back up to his face.

Loki does not look perturbed in the least. “I never claimed indifference, Thor.” Loki says, his lips quirked into a small smile, his voice oddly reminiscent of past times, when their lives were inextricably entwined. “Your performance in this particular area has always been one of your few, if not only, redeeming quality.”

Thor’s lips curve into an answering smile all on their own. Then, following the same instinct which has made him drop Mjölnir, Thor uncurls his fingers from around Loki’s wrists, leaving himself utterly at Loki’s mercy. He holds Loki’s gaze, his heart beating an erratic rhythm against his, suddenly, too-tight chest. Not out of fear, but a possibility Thor thought forever lost to him.

Loki does nothing for a long moment, then, with a long, drawn-out sigh, he allows the dagger to fall to the ground, his eyes not leaving Thor for an instant. “Fool.” The word leaves his lips in a breathless chuckle, but as to whom of the two of them it is directed, Thor cannot tell. Nor does it matter. Not when Loki lowers his hand down on the ground, both his hands now resting above his head.

He says nothing, merely arches an eyebrow, a spark of challenge glinting in his eyes.

Thor swallows hard, releasing a shaky breath, his fingers trembling slightly as they brush softly against the purpling bruise on Loki’s cheek. He forces himself to go slow – even if every cell inside him screams with urgency to have and to claim – tracing the outline of Loki’s lips, Loki’s breath hot and moist against Thor’s fingers, before heading down, briefly pausing to feel the rapid beat of Loki’s heart against the pulse point on his neck.

When they were younger, not only one of Loki’s garments fell prey to Thor’s urgent and demanding fingers. This time, though, Thor’s fingers are slow and cautious as they work on the buckles and clasps of Loki’s armour. And all the while, Loki does nothing but stare at Thor’s face, content to follow Thor’s lead in this.

When the last buckle comes undone, Thor’s patience all but breaks. A large part of him aches with the need to touch and taste every inch of Loki, and do it now, but he fights against that urge. He is not the boy he once were and neither is Loki. And Thor means this not be just another scar they are to leave on each other.

Moving off of Loki, Thor sits back on his heels and extends one hand to Loki. A moment – horrifyingly long, despite it lasting no more than a few heartbeats – Loki does nothing, his face frustratingly controlled despite his chest rising and falling unevenly. Then, slowly, his right hand moves, his fingers tangling with Thor’s. Thor tugs Loki up and pulls him onto his lap. His heart is now beating a frantic beat, his throat tight with myriad of emotions – lust, fear, ache, guilt, and love. Forever love, even when it comes disguised as its dark twin.

Without moving his gaze away from Loki’s, Thor pushes the coat off Loki’s shoulders, leaving Loki only in a light tunic. Loki smiles, a soft quirk of lips, his hands settling on Thor’s shoulders.

Thor’s patience snaps then, his hands wrapping around Loki’s wait and pulling him closer, until they are pressed flush against each other. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh falls from Thor’s lips as he buries his face in the crook of Loki’s neck.

Thor’s eyes snap shut and he inhales deeply, searching for that familiar scent of a cool spring morning which will forever mean home to Thor. Home and Loki. Tugging the collar of Loki’s tunic to the side, Thor exposes more of the skin, his lips tracing irregular patterns across it. He is tempted to bite, to leave his mark on the pale skin of Loki’s neck, but he settles for a kiss against the pulse point on Loki’s neck, his teeth only grazing the skin.

Fingers twist into his hair, tugging his head up. There is no violence in the act, only a clear demand. Thor obeys, reluctantly, already missing the taste of skin.

“This changes nothing.” Loki breathes, his fingers still tangled in Thor’s hair. There is no bite to his words, he sounds almost kind, an unusually somber look in his eyes.

Thor swallows, then presses his forehead against Loki’s, their mouths only an inch apart making it so they are breathing each other’s air. Thor’s hand moves, almost on its own, settling on the back of Loki’s neck. Something wells inside Thor’s throat – a sob, or a laugh, he is not sure, but he does not allow it out. Always so clever, his younger brother, and such a fool so often. Of course this will not change a single thing. Loki will still be his brother. Thor will still love him. And the idea of a world without Loki in it will still be a poisonous blade wedged inside Thor’s heart.

Thor does not say any of that. He has learned the value of omission. Instead, he opens his eyes, his fingers tightening on the back of Loki’s neck, his lips brushing against Loki’s.

“I know.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: When Thor first started seeing Jane, he didn’t understand Loki’s extreme reaction. It had been centuries since they’d been together and they had hardly been celibate in the aftermath. And then Loki starts to truly move on - maybe years after Jane and the Avengers are gone or maybe still during their lifetime - and Thor finally understands. Watching Loki fall in love with someone else…it’s a pain like nothing he’s ever felt. He imagines it’s something like falling into the void. No air to breathe, no light or sound. Trapped in all consuming darkness, waiting for the inevitable crash landing.

Loki lives. The realization stills entire universe, and, for one brief moment, Thor feels nothing but joy – the force of it stealing the breath from his lungs, and he feels like he is drowning, his heartbeat a thunderous noise inside his ears – but the moment ends, fury blazing to life within Thor’s chest, seeping into his every cell.

He sees red; betrayal and hurt fueling the blaze of fury inside him. In that moment, Thor hates; thirsting for Loki’s blood.

It is later, much later; his fingers are wrapped around the delicate curve of Loki’s neck, his knuckles stained with Loki’s blood and his mouth tasting of his own, when the red slowly recedes from his vision.

“Asgard will fall, Thor. You know it, too.”

Loki says the words Thor had swirling inside his mind since that young witch played a trick on his mind. But he says it without glee, without satisfaction; a resigned, hollow sound, matching his eyes.

It is a trick, Thor thinks bitterly, but he is already pulling his hands away; taking a step back. Taking another risk.

“Tell me everything.” Thor demands, and Loki, surprisingly, does.

***

There is an expression of disgust on Loki’s face as he wipes the small trail of blood seeping from the gash on his face, stepping over the body of one of the attackers. His gaze flicks sideways, toward the blue stone, still safe, the Titan’s lackeys dead at their feet. But it is only the beginning, and if they are to win in this, if they are to stop Thanos, they cannot simply wait and do nothing. They need to act first. Thor knows this, and Loki knows it as well, Thor sees it in his eyes, the emotions flickering in rapid succession in his eyes – anger, fear, and, finally, grim resolve. Thor can almost hear his brother’s mind at work, trying but failing to think of a way around what is so plainly clear to Thor.

“We cannot wage this battle alone.” Thor states firmly, and watches Loki’s fingers twitch, then curl into a fist. “We are not alone in this. He comes not only for Asgard.”

Loki’s gaze lifts, meeting Thor’s, his lips curving into a wry grin. “Well. This will not be pleasant in the least.”

***

It is not pleasant.

His friends are, as expected, not at all happy with Loki’s sudden reappearance in their lives. There is anger and disappointment, even suspicion, directed not solely toward Loki. It is a long and exhausting day which ends more or less satisfying. No one is willing to forgive and forget, but no one tries to make an attempt at Loki’s life. Thor considers it a victory.

Loki remains surprisingly civil during the encounter. He does not rise to Stark’s continuous baiting, nor does he give into the agitated impatience which Thor knows is lurking underneath the impassive surface of his face.

It is only later that Thor realizes, with an uneasy twist in his chest, that Loki’s eyes, even when he was being threatened by imprisonment and harm, were constantly flickering toward the silent, slender figure of the young witch, standing in the background.

***

Thor should not be lurking in the shadows of a balcony, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set. And a growing ache inside his heart. But he is.

There is a shift in the scene below; Loki makes a step forward, his movements measured, his hands half-raised in a soothing manner, his entire posture set to reassure.

The young witch… Wanda, makes half-a step back before stopping herself. Thor cannot see either of their expressions, but, with a pang of misplaced hurt, he can easily imagine the small, half-smile on Loki’s lips. He has seen it a multitude of times during their adulthood; Loki can be charming when he sets his mind to it, but that smile… that smile used to be _Thor’s_.

The Avengers are still wary of Loki, and that includes the young witch, but Thor her eyes hold the least of disdain when directed at his brother. The least disdain, and far too much curiosity, bordering on fascination, for Thor’s peace of mind.

Loki moves his right hand – the green flickering about his fingers. Thor’s reaction is instinctual – he still cannot bring himself to trust Loki fully, cannot forgive him fully – he takes a step forward, his fingers wrapping about the metal railing, the breath leaving his throat as a mirthless chuckle as a simple orb of light materializes above Loki’s spread palm.

The girl does nothing for a moment, then, slowly, her hand moves, and with a small wave, the orb above Loki’s hand blazes with red light. Neither move for a moment, both figures still as statues. Still as Thor’s heart. Then, she takes a step forward, his fingers close to Loki’s, and Thor feels something shift in his chest, his heart going from stillness into a wild, erratic beat.

The creak of metal snaps Thor back to reality, his eyes narrowing and forehead creasing into a frown when he notices the dent his fingers have made in the railing. 

He turns hastily, and strides away from the balcony, guilt and regret and something else – something ugly and dark and vicious – clawing at his chest, seeping into his blood with every beat of his heart.

***

“They are spending much time together.”

Thor lifts his gaze, his eyes flickering even against his will toward the other end of the jet where Loki and the girl are caught in deep conversation, their heads leaning close. Too close.

“Loki is not a weapon we can use then put away until we have need of him again.” Thor says flatly, wrenching his eyes away from Loki and the witch, but the sight of red and dark head almost touching lingers before his mind’s eye. 

His words come out harsher than he intended, but Natasha merely arches one eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “That wasn’t what I said.”

Thor clenches his jaw, refusing to allow his eyes to wander back to Loki and the girl. “Magic is not common here. It is only natural the girl seeks to know more. And Loki…” Thor’s words trail off, bile rising in his throat when a sound he has not heard in a long while drifts from the back of the jet. Laughing, Loki is actually laughing – a low, genuine sound, and one not at all meant for Thor. Thor’s stomach twists into knots, that dark feeling Thor refuses to name sinking its claws into his heart, leaving bloody trail in its wake. “…can show her that which no one here could.” He finishes, his voice tight with forced self-control.

Natasha regards him thoughtfully, and Thor finds it difficult to hold her gaze. There are too many secret things swirling inside Thor’s mind – secrets which are beyond complicated, tinted with memories of love, betrayal and regret – for him to bear her scrutiny with ease.

“We have a lot to deal with without having to worry about potential fallout of interstellar romance with a spectacularly bad timing.”

Thor takes a deep breath, forces his fingers to unclench. “We are all aware of the danger looming on the horizon. Some even more than others.”

“Hm. I hope you’re right.” She says after a moment. “I’ve seen what they can do, and I’ve seen what they can do when they’re in a particularly bad mood.”

With that, she leaves, and Thor shuts his eyes. But he cannot do anything to stop her words from taunting him in the privacy of his mind. Or to silence the occasional rise of Loki’s voice, light and tinted with laughter, so different from the controlled, blank tone he reserves for Thor.

***

Thor squeezes his eyes shut as breath leaves his throat in harsh, shallow pants. His entire body feels all but drained of strength, shivering with exhaustion as Thor sags against the metal wall.

Metal wall which is slowly, inch by inch, moving forward, despite his and Loki’s combined efforts to stop its progress. The strange metal has proved too much of a challenge for Thor’s strength and Loki’s magic, and Mjölnir… is not here. They have made an error in judgment, underestimated their enemy, and now they are to pay the price.

Not a death Thor ever envisioned for himself. Trapped like an animal, and about to be squashed like an insect.

Thor takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to call to Loki, to once again takes over the burden of holding off the wall, but a low, mirthless laughter startles him into snapping his eyes open, the words stilling on his lips.

Loki looks pale and weary, his face drawn into a tight grimace of pain and concentration, his palms splayed wide and blazing green against the metal wall. Which, Thor notes grimly, is still moving – slowly, but steadily. Then, Thor’s gaze catches Loki’s, and he knows it to be a mistake the moment he makes it. There is bitter resignation there, and not a small amount of sorrow. Thor swallows, wishes to look away. Does not.

“You always had a particular sense of humor, Loki.” Thor whispers, his own voice strange in his ears – thin, frail, but not out of fear. There is something unraveling inside his chest, like a knot wound up too tight for too long, and now, in the worst possible moment, it is coming undone, and truth, lying dormant for so long, is rising inside his chest like a tidal wave. Even if he wanted to do so, Thor would be powerless to stop it. “But to find humor in our current situation is truly a wonder.”

Loki cocks his head, holds Thor’s gaze, his lips curving up. “I always knew, once I run out of tricks, I am to die like this.” He says, and the desolate tone of his voice feels like a knife to Thor’s heart. “Without honour and glory, but I never thought to do so by your side.”

Thor stares at Loki, a myriad of emotions welling inside him and closing around his heart like an iron vise. This is the most wretched moment for this to happen, but Thor wants to cross the space which is separating them and shake Loki for being a fool, then, pull him into an embrace and never let go, he wants his fingers around Loki’s face and his mouth on Loki’s… he simply _wants_.

But he does none of it. He straightens, braces his weight against the wall and pushes.

“I am not dying like a mindless beast caught in a trap, and neither are you.” Thor forces through gritted teeth.

Loki blinks, a glint of something sparking beneath the resignation in his eyes. “Oh? And how are we to die, then?”

“Like the princes of Asgard.” Thor says simply, watches Loki’s eyes grow wide and bright. Pushes harder. “Like brothers.” Thor adds solemnly, the words an oath he means to keep.

Loki blinks, opens his mouth, snaps it shut, but the blaze of green around his fingers grows brighter, and the wall…

…it stops moving.

***

Thor knows not what is on his face, but the smile on Jane’s face flickers, then fades.

“Jane-” Thor starts, but the words leave him, dissolving into an awkward pause. He takes a breath, tries again. “There is something I must tell you.”

She tilts her head, gives him a small nod.

“There… there is another in my heart.” The words leave his lips in a rush of breath, leaving his heart feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.

She takes a step back, settles on a chair.

“ _Oh_.” She says, her voice low. “Oh.”

Thor waits, the silence growing stifling. He hopes she would not ask for the name. He will not deny her if she asks, but he would rather not. She would not understand, and to see disgust in her eyes atop the hurt he had already caused is not something Thor wishes upon either of them.

Suddenly, her head snaps toward him, her brow creasing. “Have you…?”

“No.” Thor rushes to explain. “He does not even know of my affections.”

She blinks, her mouth forming a silent ‘o’ of surprise. Then, she shakes her head, her fingers combing through her hair.

“I feel like I should be angry.” She says, but she does not look so. She looks perplexed, more than a little sad, but not angry or hurt. “But I’m not.”

“I swear to you, Jane, this- I never meant this to happen.” Thor says, shrugging helplessly. And he had not. But his heart has ever been a traitor when it came to Loki. 

She rises from the chair, and closes the distance between them. “I know, but I always knew it will end someday.” She says, and she has to rise on her toes to cup his cheek. “I spent my entire life watching stars and then you, literally, fell from the sky.” She smiles. “My very own space prince, like in a fairytale. But, you now what?”

Thor smiles, his throat tight, shakes his head.

“I’ve never been into fairytales.” She says, cocks her head. “I prefer science.”

A startled laughter falls from Thor’s throat, and, with only a moment’s hesitation, he pulls her into an embrace. She allows it.

“You are kind and wise and I deserve not your forgiveness or friendship, but I do hope for both.” Thor says, his lips brushing against her hair. “I do wish you all the best in life, Jane Foster.”

She rises on her toes, her lips grazing his briefly. “And I hope you’ll be happy, Thor. You deserve some of it in your life.”

Thor smiles, his thoughts, predictably, wandering toward the person who had brought him both joy and misery in the long years they have shared together.

“I hope Norns will heed your words, Jane.”

_For they have oft been deaf to mine._

***

Thor feels ridiculous – like a lovesick boy, unsure and frightened, his palms sweaty and his heart trying its best to beat its way out of Thor’s chest – as he stands in front of Loki’s room.

They have been lovers a long time ago – they were so young then; young and arrogant and selfish, greedy for pleasure they found in each other’s bodies. It ended, the passion burning out. But the love persisted, swept away in the chaos of lies, anger and betrayal.

And now, what are they? Tentative allies? Friends? Brothers? They have had little time to talk, to mend what was – still remains – broken between them; the needs of two swallowed by the needs of many.

But tomorrow it all ends. In victory or defeat, only Norns can tell. They could die, and Thor finds himself loathing the possibility of doing so without having Loki know what lies in his heart. Even if it is selfish and wrong, and it could shatter the tentative bond that has started to form between them.

Thor knocks once, twice, three times on Loki’s door, but no answer comes. He does not contemplate the meaning, aware only of the insistent need of his heart. He pushes the door open and enters, turns on the light, frowning at the empty room.

A thought takes shape in the back of his mind, but Thor grits his teeth, grinds it into nothingness as he takes a seat on Loki’s bed, and waits.

And waits. And waits.

The hours pass, the empty room mocking Thor with chances he now knows to be lost, and then:

“Thor? What… has something happened?”

Thor rises to his feet, staring at the frown of concern on Loki’s face, but seeing only his disheveled hair and startlingly bright eyes.

Thor swallows, a rush of blood in his ears building until it becomes a deafening roar. He tries to think, to form a reply, but it is hard to think when his chest feels as if it’s splitting in two.

Loki draws closer and Thor almost takes step back.

“Thor? Are you well?”

Thor blinks, forces his mouth into a smile. “Yes, I-” He pauses, gathers himself. He needs to leave, he needs to put space between himself and Loki, before Loki reads what lies inside his heart. “Do not do anything foolish tomorrow, Loki.”

Loki frowns, his eyes studying Thor carefully. “Shouldn’t I be the one to tell those words to you?”

Thor smiles, resists the need to curl his fingers around Loki’s wrist, to pull him close, to-

“Just… be careful. Do not die.” Thor says, his lungs struggling to draw breath. He is running, he knows this, but the knowledge does not stop him from turning on his heel and moving toward the door. He is already at the door when a soft whisper drifts toward him.

“You too.” Then, softer, almost inaudible: “Brother.”

***

They are victorious.

***

Thor looks up at the stars, ignoring the muffled sounds of music coming from behind him.

His friends are celebrating their victory, even Loki is participating, but Thor finds himself seeking solitude, dull ache in his heart calming in the crisp night air.

“Well, this is a sight I have never thought to witness.” A familiar voice states, low and amused. “You, brooding instead of celebrating a hard won victory.”

Thor does not turn, a low chuckle falling from his lips. “I had to leave before Stark asked me for a dance. I would hate to insult our host.”

A pause, then. “He asked _me_.” Loki says, coming to stand next to Thor. There is a frown on his face. “I always though Stark to be better at holding his liquor.”

Thor chuckles, then reaches inside his jacket, pulling out his flask. He offers it to Loki who takes it without hesitation. He takes a sip of the drink, then returns the flask to Thor, arching an eyebrow.

“Does Stark even know he is currently sipping Odin’s favorite drink?”

Thor’s lips curve into a grin and he shrugs, noncommittally. Loki snorts, looking impressed, but he says nothing.

“I am to return home tomorrow.” Thor says without taking his eyes from the sky. He fears to look at Loki’s’ face. He still has little strength to do so without wanting what is lost to him. But, despite his foolish heart, he feels as close to happiness as he had since after Loki’s fall from Bifrost. Loki is alive, he is alive. There is an empty throne waiting for him. And even if Thor feels he will never be fully ready to accept it, he does not fear the burden of the throne anymore. Thor swallows, adds: “The girl, Wanda. She would like Asgard, don’t you think?”

“Everyone would, Thor.” Loki answers, his voice cautious. “It _is_ Realm Eternal.”

“Then- then there is no reason for you not to come home with me, as well.” Thor tries, trying but failing to hide the hope in his voice. “With her, naturally.”

Slim fingers wrap around Thor’s wrist, forcing him to turn. Loki looks at him as if he were drunk, or mad. Possibly both.

“What nonsense are you speaking now?”

Thor does not wish to speak of this. It is too early, his wound still fresh.

“You and the young witch.” Thor says, keeping his voice carefully blank. He manages, mostly. “You are together now, are you not?”

Loki tilts his head, his eyes boring into Thor’s. Thor swallows around the dryness of his throat, unable to tear his gaze away from Loki’s.

“Tell me something, Thor.” Loki says, low and soft, taking a step forward. Thor’s heart skips a beat, two, three, but he stands his ground. “Are you ever going to cease being a fool?”

Thor blinks, frowning, the ground shifting underneath his feet. “What-” He tries, but fails at forming into words the hope which is suddenly rising from the ashes in the hollow of his chest.

“I will make it simple for you, then.” Loki says, stepping even closer, until their chest are touching. “She is beautiful and powerful and has a darkness inside her heart which calls to mine. But there is nothing between us.”

Thor blinks, almost flinches when Loki’s fingers card into his hair. “There can never be anything between us.”

Thor’s hand move on their own, settling on Loki’s hips. His thoughts are muddled, sluggish and he fears this is a fever dream he will wake from. Still, he asks. “Why is that?”

Loki smiles, soft and teasing, a promise of thousand wicked, wonderful things glinting inside his eyes. “Because I am not her brother.” He says, his lips ghosting over Thor’s. A shudder runs through Thor’s body, his fingers digging bruises into the flesh beneath the soft fabric of Loki’s’ suit. “And, equally as important, she is not _my_ brother."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pre-canon ficlet inspired by this [tumblr post.](http://umakoo.tumblr.com/post/118462867322/ok-but-imagine-young-thor-waltzing-into-lokis#notes/)

There is not an ounce of subtlety to Thor’s actions. No finesse, no double entendre, his intentions blatant and crude, everything about him – from the curve of his lips to the knowing glint in his eyes – radiating arrogance and self-assuredness.

It is a game, merely another game between them, one Loki has started, but – and damn the wretch to Hel – one Thor seems determined to finish. And, as much as Loki usually does not mind their games, Thor has suddenly changed the rules of this one. And very much not to Loki’s liking.

“Are you feeling well, brother?” Thor asks, softly, innocently, but there is nothing innocent, or decent or appropriate about how he prowls across Loki’s chamber, dressed in nothing but tight breeches which do absolutely nothing to hide the state of his arousal.

Loki grits his teeth, forces his lips into a smile. But it is but a shadow of his usual smirk. “Developing a taste for the healing arts, brother?”

Thor cocks his head, smiles – a wide, toothy grin. “Norns, no. That would be a waste of everyone’s time.” He rumbles, and the sound of it sends a wave of heat low in the pit of Loki’s belly. “I am merely concerned. You seem a bit flushed.”

Loki’s eyes narrow, a dozen insults ready to spill out of his mouth. He swallows all, takes a deep breath, shrugs with feigned nonchalance. “Heat does not agree with me, Thor. You know this.”

Thor’s grin widens, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief and laughter, and something deeper and darker underneath. “I wouldn’t say so, brother.” He says, his voice a low and husky. “I think this look suits you well.”

Loki’s throat goes dry, his heartbeat turning erratic. It is a struggle to keep his eyes fixed on Thor’s face, and not let his gaze wander lower toward the broad plane of Thor’s chest, to watch the muscles ripple and contract underneath golden skin. And even lower-

Loki swallows, heat rising in his cheeks at the slight arching of Thor’s eyebrows. His fool – but who is the fool now? – of a brother knows exactly how much this is affecting Loki, and it is only the hint of a triumph in Thor’s gaze which is keeping Loki sitting behind his desk – painfully, achingly hard – and not on the other side of his chamber, pushing Thor down on the bed, binding his wrists with magic and proceeding to make him fall apart underneath Loki’s hands, hear him whimper and moan, and beg.

He grits his teeth, takes a deep breath. “Is there a reason for your visit, brother?” Loki asks, his voice only slightly strained.

“Must I have a reason to visit my own brother?” Thor asks, shrugging, the simple gesture drawing Loki’s gaze in the very direction Loki does not wish it to go. It takes Loki ridiculously long amount of time to tear his eyes away from Thor’s chest and focus again on Thor’s face.

“Most people do have a reason for their actions.” Loki snaps, his breathing growing harsh. “Despite what you may believe, Thor, not all are guided by whatever momentary whim strikes their fancy.”

Thor chuckles and strolls toward Loki’s collection of books, turning to look at Loki over his shoulder. “Momentary? I can assure you there is nothing momentary about the reason of my visit.” Then, his gaze darkening he adds: “Nor is it a whim.”

Loki’s fingers twitch, the need to simply let go of his pride and admit defeat becoming an almost physical sensation. But he resists that urge, his teeth biting his lower lip in desperate need of a distraction. His eyes flick down toward the book he was reading when Thor strolled in, but the letters blur and flicker before his eyes until they morph into an image of Thor – lying down on his bed, his large hand moving up the length of his cock, stroking himself into hardness; his head thrown back, eyes closed as he imagines-

A low growl of frustration falls from Loki’s lips as he lifts his gaze, his eyes searching for his accursed brother, finding him sprawled on Loki’s bed, his eyes, now tinted almost grey with desire, fixed on Loki, his fingers rubbing lazy circles just above the very notable bulge in his breeches.

Loki is moving before he is aware he had made the decision, forgoing his pride despite the glint of triumph in Thor’s eyes as he pushes himself into a sitting position, forgoing all save the incessant hunger spreading through his veins like wildfire.

He reaches the bed in four well-measured strides, sinking to his knees between Thor’s spread legs.

He looks up at Thor’s face, sees the triumph and desire and something deeper and warmer glinting in Thor’s eyes. “I will make you pay for this, Thor.” Loki vows in a low voice, even as his fingers reach for the laces on Thor’s breeches. “Consider it a fair warning.”

Thor smiles, his eyes alight with hunger. He reaches out, cupping Loki’s face, his thumb brushing against Loki’s lower lip. “I look forward to it, brother.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: _“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”_

A deep sigh of relief falls from Loki’s lips as he enters his rooms. Perhaps there is something cowardly in avoiding the source of his… well, confusion is true enough, so is frustration, but that is his default state when it comes to Loki’s feelings concerning his older brother; everything else…everything else this morning’s incident in the training grounds has brought forth will simply have to be carefully and calmly considered, and, quite probably, ignored.

But in the privacy of his own mind, that plan sounds less than plausible.

Taking off his coat, Loki tosses it carelessly on one of the chairs; his fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the clasps of his light outer armor. By the time he arrives to his bed-chamber, he is dressed only in black breeches and a light tunic, the heavy doors shutting behind him with a soft click.

Loki has ever prided himself on his quick reflexes, but it takes him a few seconds – a few seconds too much, but given his wandering thoughts, his delayed reaction is understandable, if not excusable – to become aware of another presence in the room.

Loki stops dead in his tracks by the door, instinctively reaching for the dagger he always keeps hidden, but then he recognizes the intruder and his fingers relax, his hand falling by his side. His posture stays tense despite the lack of a threat, and his mood… well, it worsens. He should have expected this. If there is anything certain and unchangeable in the entire Nine Realms, it is the single-minded tenacity of his uninvited visitor.

Loki is not a firm believer in the intricate workings of fate, no matter the whims of the three sisters, but there is something profoundly ironic in Loki stepping into his own bed-chamber and finding the very person he had been avoiding the entire day, lying on his bed. That, on its own, is enough to make Loki’s teeth grit together, annoyance flaring in the pit of his stomach, but it is not all.

Taking a moment to gather himself, Loki inhales deeply, his features settling into a scowl.

“Is there a reason you are naked in my bed?” Loki asks, arching an eyebrow. Not exactly the question one would expect to ask your sibling. But not everyone had the dubious honor of having Thor Odinson for a brother.

Thor grins – wide, boyish and utterly exasperating – pushing himself into a sitting position. Not bothering in the least to cover himself. But Thor never had any reason to feel self-conscious about his appearance. Who would, when in possession of a body sculpted to perfection? Why, even in the dim light of Loki’s bed-chamber Thor still seems to _glow_ , the light catching in his hair, giving it a golden hue. It makes Loki scowl harder.

“Hello, brother.” Thor greets, and there is fondness in his voice which tugs the corners of Loki’s mouth into a smile utterly against his will. “I have almost given up hope of you returning.”

“This is my room, Thor. Where else would I go in the middle of the night?”

Thor seems to consider his words for a moment; a strange expression passing over his features. Loki’s scowl morphs into a frown at the hint of something borderline _fierce_ in his brother’s expression. But it quickly turns into the familiar cocky one.

“It matters little.” Thor says, shrugging dismissively. “You are here now.”

“And so are you. Naked.” Loki points out, not bothering to mask his annoyance. “Why?”

The damned wretch has the audacity to look smug at that. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Loki?” Thor chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement and mischief.

Any other day, the answer would be different. Any other day, Loki would simply roll his eyes and take Thor’s cockiness in stride. But any other day, Loki would not have to wage a battle with his own eyes, forcing them not to stay focused on his brother’s face, and not stray lower. Any other day, his skin would not still be tingling from a very visceral, and very, _very_ inappropriate reaction to Thor’s body pinning him to the ground after a wrestling match.

“What you are is making a fool-” Loki pauses, tilts his head, studying Thor’s face, the slight flush to his cheeks. He breathes a sigh of exasperation. “Are you drunk, Thor?”

Thor’s lips twitch, his grin turning rueful. “It would make this easier if I were to claim drunkenness, but I cannot.” Thor says simply. Loki believes him; there is far too much solemnity in his eyes, despite the way they still crinkle with laughter. “I _have_ been drinking, but not enough to blame my actions on inebriation.”

Loki blinks, his heart doing a strange twist in his chest, and, for some inexplicable reason, for a brief, _insane_ moment, Loki entertains the idea of fleeing.

“Well, whatever you have in mind surely can wait until morning.” Loki says, tersely, folding his hands across his chest to stop them from trembling; a wave of agitation, bright and sharp, is forming inside him, but Loki remains unable to decide at whom he is more cross at the moment – Thor or himself. “For Norn’s sake, Thor, do put some clothes on. What made you undress to begin with is something I am not quite sure I even wish to know.” He adds, his voice gaining a sharp edge of impatience.

Thor pushes himself forward, the movement dragging Loki’s eyes down, toward the ripple of muscles underneath golden skin. He glances away, almost immediately, the muscle in his jaw twitching, his heartbeat increasing in speed. He has seen Thor nude before, many times, but under different circumstances. Circumstances which called for nudity. Unlike the present.

When he returns his gaze, more or less satisfied with his self-control, Thor is standing by the foot of Loki’s bed – still bare, still looking utterly unconcerned by that fact, as if this is Thor’s room and Loki is out of place here – and Loki feels a shiver of dread and anticipation crawling up his spine.

“I never meant to come here, Loki, you must know this before I continue.” Thor pauses, his voice a soft whisper, holding nothing of Thor’s usual unbridled joy. “Not when it all only began.” He amends with a small half-smile.

Loki grimaces, quite certain he would be better off without knowing what Thor’s ‘it’ entails. Only, he is equally as certain Thor will not leave until he speaks his mind. A no-win situation for him.

“Then what did you mean to do?” Loki prompts, resigned. Indulging Thor in whatever current madness has possessed him is nowhere near the list of what Loki wishes to do in this moment, but the sooner Thor says what he came to say, the sooner he will leave. A sound logic, even if everything about current situation is far from sound, as well as logical. “In the beginning.”

It is quite a feat, to remain dignified and carry on a serious conversation when utterly naked, but on Thor it seems effortless. Just another on the seemingly endless list of qualities which form the near perfection that is Loki’s older brother.

“In the very beginning? Nothing.” Thor says simply, looking at Loki as if there is an actual sense to his words. Loki blinks, dismayed and exasperated. Thor may not be the one with the moniker Silvertongue, but his words usually convey meaning. “I refused to accept it as something real, thinking it a momentary madness. Or a fever dream.”

“I take it you were mistaken?” Loki asks, his voice catching on the last word. This is, by far, the most ridiculous conversation he has ever had with his older brother, and there have been a few memorable occasions when Thor was too drunk to stand, but not to talk. But there is something inside him which prevents him for demanding clarification, of accusing Thor of thinking him clairvoyant. Perhaps the very thing which has made him wander the narrow Asgardian streets the entire day, with nothing but his distraught thoughts to keep him company.

Thor chuckles, then shrugs, taking a step forward. “Very much mistaken.”

“I assume you accepted your predicament?” The words tumble out of Loki’s mouth without careful consideration. This is a foreign territory for him; usually he is the one who engages Thor in silly word games of patience and wit, leading his brother through a maze of half-truths and omissions. Not this time. This time he is the one stumbling in the dark, the one who has no idea what game they are playing, and, more importantly, what are the stakes. 

“Not yet. I _was_ furious, though.”

“Such a surprise.” Loki snorts, rolls his eyes.

“I thought it was one of your tricks.” Thor admits in a low, strained voice. To his credit, he looks ashamed. “We were at odds, true, but I could not understand why you have chosen to make me suffer in such a way. It seemed unworthy of the both of us.” 

Loki takes a deep breath, his hands falling by his sides. He cannot discern the exact situation Thor is referring to; they were at odds quite often lately. Although, he can remember the time when Thor looked almost like a feral beast each time Loki came near, but that was a year ago.

There is bile gathered in Loki’s throat – sharp and bitter – and it takes him a moment to subdue the hurt twisting in his chest, reaching instead for resentment. “Such words of praise from my own brother.” He sneers, his fingers curling into fists. “You are not the center of the universe, Thor. I do not live my life depending on my current mood toward you. Which, if you are wondering, is deteriorating rapidly.”

Thor takes two rapid steps forward before he stops, lowers his gaze a moment. When he lifts his gaze again, Loki can see sadness there, and shame, but most of all determination.

“You call me fool often enough, is it such a surprise that your words are true at times?”

Thor’s admission dulls the edge of Loki’s anger and resentment, and he finds himself arching an eyebrow. “Only at times?”

The corner of Thor’s mouth twitches, a small smile curving on his lips briefly. “How much of your rage, brother, will my admission soothe if I say your words are true more often than not?”

Loki waits a moment, keeping his face impassive. “A sufficient amount for staying my hand at trying on you new and interesting curses I have discovered lately.”

“Then stay your hand because I have been a fool for too long now.”

Loki swallows against the dryness of his throat, his insides twisting into a tight knot of apprehension and thrill alike. There is something ridiculously mesmerizing about the glint in Thor’s eyes, and Loki finds himself caught staring, trying to discern the nature of the fire he sees there. It is not the warmth of affection with which Thor usually regards him, nor is it the heat of fury Loki has been faced with during their uglier fights. No, this is something new, something which makes Loki simultaneously want to move forward, meet Thor’s slow an careful advance, and turn around and run far. As far as he can.

He is not certain how long he has been staring at Thor, like he is some swooning virgin, but when he finally manages to gather the loose threads of his thoughts, Thor is suddenly standing very, very close. Still very, very naked. If he chooses to do so, Loki notes absentmindedly, he could reach out and drag his fingertips across the seemingly vast expanse of that ridiculously golden skin. 

Loki manages to stop himself from doing something which could not be called sane by any stretch of imagination, but only just, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palms.

“And does your tale end with misplaced suspicion and fury, or is there more to it?” Loki asks, aiming for boredom, but his voice comes out too thin, almost strangled.

“You wish to hear the end of it?”

“So far you seemed unconcerned with my wishes regarding this… quite unusual visit of yours, brother.” Loki says. “Why should what I wish matter now?”

Thor smiles, and takes a step forward. Loki moves instinctively, taking a step backward, his back a scant inch away from colliding with the door. He glares at Thor, but receives only a fond smile in return.

“Your wishes always concern me, Loki.” Thor says, still smiling. “It is your contrary nature which makes everything a battle.”

Loki’s eyes narrow into slits. “If your intention was to start a fight, Thor, you should have remained clothed.”

“My intention was to speak with you, but each time I came to your rooms earlier today, it seemed you were otherwise occupied.” Thor says flatly, shrugs. “That is why I decided to sleep here.”

“Normal person would have waited another day. Not undress and appropriate another’s bed.” Loki sneers. Thor remains calm in the face of Loki’s mounting fury, still smiling that wide, infuriating grin. “But not you. I suppose waiting is meant for everyone else, not the mighty Thor Odinson.”

“I _have_ been waiting, brother, for far longer than you could imagine.” Thor says, his grin faltering for a moment. Then, he tilts his head in silent consideration. Loki keeps his expression guarded, his lips pressed tightly in annoyance, his breath stilling when Thor drags his knuckles softly across his cheek. “And I suppose I should dress myself, but you do look lovely when flustered, brother.”

For a brief moment Loki is unable to react in any way, too stunned to form a reply, or even think of one, but his shock soon turns to outrage, and then, anger.

“You arrogant, self-satisfied, wretch.” Loki hisses, the edges of his vision tinted red. He feels livid, his entire body shaking with fury – fierce and hot – and all he can see is that wide, toothy grin, directed at him. He forgets that he is no match for Thor’s brute strength, forgets where his own strength lies, guided only be the rush of blood in his veins, and the molten fury spreading through each and every cell in his body.

Thor easily dodges his punch, anger and lack of space making Loki slow and clumsy, and catches Loki’s wrist. Using the momentum, he crowds Loki against the door, and after a brief struggle, Thor grabs hold of Loki’s other wrist, pinning both on either side of Loki’s head.

Loki spits curses, thrashing in in Thor’s grip, his breath shallow and uneven. It is only when Thor manages to pant out, low and strangled: “Will you… stop struggling… and hear me out?” that Loki stills, his head falling against the polished wood, and shuts his eyes.

For a few moments Loki registers nothing but the sound of his harsh breaths, as the noise of his heartbeat slowly calms, turns from a deafening roar to a dull, uneven beat. Then, slowly, gradually, he becomes aware of other sensations – the heat of another body, pressing tightly against his own; the warmth of breath fanning across his face, and the unyielding strength of the fingers holding his wrists captive. And the heat of fury still lingering in his veins morphs into another form of fire – dangerous and forbidden.

Aggravated, Loki snaps his eyes open. He knows how close Thor is – can feel every inch of his body against the light fabric of his clothes – but he is still taken aback by the gleaming blue of his brother’s gaze focused intently on his face.

Loki swallows, fixing Thor with a hard stare. “Release me.” He demands in a cold, even voice.

“No.” The reply falls from Thor’s lips with a note of finality. The playful grin has slipped off Thor’s face, the flare of Thor’s nostrils and the twitch of his jaw painting a picture of a slowly deteriorating control. Loki is not quite certain this change in Thor’s mood is an improvement. “Not until you hear what I have to say.”

“I have heard enough from you for today.” Loki says, sticking his chin out stubbornly. “I am tired and I have-”

A sharp bark of near hysterical laughter which spills from Thor’s mouth is jarring and ugly sound, and so unlike Thor it silences Loki more effectively than anything else Thor could have said or done.

“ _You_ are tired?” There is a note of desperation in Thor’s voice, the look in his eyes raw and open as the grip on Loki’s wrists tightens, becomes just shy of painful. “You know not the meaning of the word.”

“And you do?” Loki means it to be a taunt, or an accusation, but the words leave his mouth as a hoarse whisper.

Thor’s expression draws into a grimace, his lips twisting into something far too pained to be considered a smile. “More than I can say.” He shuts his eyes, leaning his forehead against Loki’s, his fingers not lessening their desperate grip on Loki’s wrist. “I am tired, brother. Tired of fighting against something stronger than myself.” 

Loki falls very, very still. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, and it becomes a struggle to think, to draw breath… only his heart seems alive and real. His heart, and _Thor_ – his scent and heat and the sound of his ragged breaths.

Once, a long time ago, Loki was standing at the very edge of the Bifrost, staring at the vastness of space below. He feels now like he had back then – knowing that only a small step separates him from certain doom but aching to take it.

“But those are your favorite battles, brother.” Loki whispers. Thor’s body goes tense against his, then, after a brief moment, relaxes, a soft chuckle falling from Thor’s lips. Other than that, Thor does not move, the heat of his breath a soft caress against the skin of Loki’s face. A distant part of Loki’s mind is still seething, full of outrage at Thor for manhandling him, but it is but a small part, its voice a soft murmur compared to the increasingly louder beat of his heart. “There is nothing you love more than a challenge.” His lips curving slightly, he adds, with only a faint hint of bitterness: “Understandable, considering how rare you come across one.”

Thor lifts his head. It takes Loki but a moment to wish he had not. Their faces are only scant inches apart, their breaths mingling. It would take little, and they could be _sharing_ air, but even that knowledge pales under the unwavering focus of Thor’s gaze upon his face. There is nothing brotherly or innocent about the way Thor looks at him – fierce and hungry and utterly honest in his desire – and Loki finds himself at a loss how could he have missed it.

Or, more importantly, how did Thor manage to hide it for longer than a day. His brother – reckless and impatient and oh so very selfish in his pursuits – has never made an attempt at masking his desires. Never made an attempt at denying himself anything.

But _this_ is something which stretches far beyond the generous borders Thor has set for himself.

“There is something I love more… _far more_ than a challenge.” Thor smiles, his fingers on Loki’s wrist loosening their hold, but not withdrawing. Loki could break Thor’s hold now, if he chose to do so. He does not. “Even if _he_ is a considerable challenge for my patience.”

“What patience?” Loki says, but his voice is far too breathless to sound mocking. The edge of the abyss is so, so very close now, and his desire to turn away and retreat to safety is diminishing with each intake of breath, melting under the heat of his brother’s gaze. “You have none of which to speak.”

The corner of Thor’s mouth quirks, and he abandons his hold on Loki’s left wrist so he could cradle the back of Loki’s skull. Thor has done it so many times, Loki had lost count, but this somehow feels like the first time. In a way, Loki supposes, it is. “Perhaps you speak true.” Thor says, his voice a low rumble which seems to reverberate in the hollow of Loki’s chest. Thor tilts his head a little, his lips hovering over Loki’s a moment before pulling away. Loki manages to stop a whimper of protest from escaping his lips, his free hand curling into a tight fist, but staying where it is. “If I had more patience, more restraint, I would not have come here today.”

“And why _have_ you come?” Loki breathes, watching Thor’s eyes flick briefly toward his lips. He resists the sudden ridiculous urge to run his tongue against his bottom lip, simply to see Thor’s reaction. To see how fragile is his brother’s restraint.

Loki swallows, his eyes fixed on Thor’s face, on the darkening blue gaze. At this point, the answer to his question is fairly obvious, but it is still not too late for them to walk away from the edge. Nothing has been truly said or done, nothing they could not rationalize. Or pretend it did not happen. The thought, though, rings hollow in the privacy of Loki’s mind, leaving a bitter aftertaste of loss in his mouth.

Thor stays silent, his lips curving into a small half-smile, his eyes fixed on Loki’s with such intensity it makes Loki feel exposed, all his confusing and conflicted thoughts bare before his brother’s gaze. He wants to close his eyes. He does not. He _cannot_.

“Because denial and anger have done nothing to soothe my longing and trying to distract myself from it has only made it worse. Stronger.” Thor pauses, his fingers sliding up, until they are cupping Loki’s face, Thor’s thumb brushing lightly against Loki’s jaw. Loki blinks, the rawness of Thor’s voice cutting through him and twisting around Loki’s heart like a poisonous vine. “Invading my dreams and making waking hours agony.”

Loki inhales sharply, his heartbeat reaching an alarming rate. Thor has ever kept his words simple and honest, so there is no doubt in Loki’s mind his brother is speaking the truth.

“It is not like you to simply accept defeat, brother.” Loki says, his voice – hoarse and thin – sounding foreign to his ears. He is not aware his hand is moving, as focused as he is on Thor’s face, until he feels the softness of Thor’s hair between his fingers. Thor’s face draws into an almost pained grimace, his fingers shaking against Loki’s face at that, but he stays still. Loki swallows a growl of frustration at Thor’s wretched timing of displaying self-control.

“Some battles cannot be fought alone.” Thor says, finally, sounding absolutely wrecked. “And until today, I was certain I was alone.”

Loki pauses, his fingers tightening in Thor’s hair. There will be no turning back after this, for better or worse, and yet, it is laughably easy to lean into Thor’s touch, his lips curving into a hint of a smile.

“And you are not alone? How can you be certain?” Loki whispers, arches an eyebrow. It is an invitation and a challenge, and even if Thor found strength or will to resist one, Loki is certain he cannot resist both.

Thor’s lips stretch slowly into a smile, his thumb parting Loki’s lips, the blue of his gaze filling Loki’s vision as it gets closer and closer, and…

… they fall. Together.


End file.
